


One of Those Nights

by fhartz91



Series: Klainetober 2020 [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boyfriends, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Human/Vampire Relationship, Humor, Jealousy, Klainetober, Light Angst, M/M, Skank Kurt Hummel, Vampire Blaine Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/fhartz91
Summary: Kurt gets ticked after a night out with his boyfriend, so he does a number of unusual but effective things to get his point across.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Klainetober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976572
Comments: 13
Kudos: 46
Collections: Klaine-tober Halloween Fic Extravaganza





	One of Those Nights

**Author's Note:**

> A re-write for the Klainetober prompt 'vampire'.

Kurt storms into his apartment, shoving the door open with his shoulder when it sticks in the frame. It flies inward and slams into the wall. He catches it on the rebound and throws it shut. Blaine blocks his face before the slab of wood can flatten his nose.

“Kurt …” Blaine closes the door quietly behind him and slides the bolt into place. “Think about the neighbors. It’s after midnight.”

“Fuck the neighbors!” Kurt spits, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto the sofa. “Or wait - are they on your list, too?”

“I don’t have a list.” Blaine picks up Kurt’s jacket, shakes out the wrinkles, then hangs it on its hook by the door.

“Are you sure? Because it seems like no one is safe from you!”

“Do you really think I’d go after sweet little old Mrs. Hoffsteder?” Blaine chuckles. “She’s ninety-three!”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem all that discerning.”

“I said I was sorry.”

Kurt says nothing, acts like he doesn’t even hear. He walks into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator door, and grabs a bulb of fresh garlic. Blaine watches Kurt peel the paper off and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be like that,” he whines, leaning against the counter and staying at a minimum safe distance as Kurt shoves four whole cloves in his mouth – chewing them and swallowing one at a time, each followed with a shiver of revulsion and a glare of determination. “How many times do I have to tell you!? I wasn’t going to bite him …”

Kurt pushes off the counter, idly tossing the remaining garlic in Blaine’s direction. Blaine ducks as the bulb whizzes by an inch away from his right eye. Blaine follows Kurt as he walks into the bathroom, lingering in the doorway as he watches his enraged boyfriend stick a sterling silver barbell into the piercing in his tongue … the largest gauge he owns.

“Kurt? Love? Don’t you think you’re overreacting a _tiny_ bit?”

Kurt glances up into the antique, silver-backed mirror, barely acknowledging the existence of the creature behind him who has no reflection and casts no shadow. Without removing his eyes from the deceptively empty space, he deftly inserts his silver eyebrow hoop as well.

“Come on!” Blaine moans in desperation as Kurt blows past him, kicking off his heavy boots and stomping off toward the bedroom. Despite his supernatural speed (and thanks to the wall of garlic stench repelling him with every step), Blaine doesn’t reach the door before Kurt slams it shut and turns the lock. Blaine could simply tear the door from its hinges, but then he would surely be sleeping on the streets tonight. “I told you a thousand times, that beach-blond surfer type doesn’t do a thing for me, despite the fact you think I was in love with Sam for all those years in high school.”

“You were!” Kurt yells. “Tina told me!”

“And you listen to Tina? She had a thing for me, remember?”

Kurt goes silent. Blaine hopes that’s a good sign, that maybe Kurt is giving his argument more thought. He’s not really making the best case for Kurt forgiving him by throwing one of their oldest friends under the bus, but one of the side-effects of becoming a vampire, it seems, has been the loss of his tact and debonair.

Even he has to admit that lately, sometimes, he acts like an ass.

Blaine listens at the door, waiting patiently for Kurt to unlock it and let him in. He hears Kurt slip into his lounge pants and tank top, and pull the comforter down on the bed. He remains hopeful, but the longer the door stays locked, the more he gets the impression that Kurt is, in fact, not going to open it, which irritates the hell out of him.

He didn’t do anything! He didn’t! He can’t help it if, by virtue of being a vampire, humans are inexplicably attracted to him. It’s an aura he puts out, he guesses. He doesn’t know for sure. Reliable reading material is scant on the subject of the dynamics of sexual attraction where humans and vampires are involved. He’s asked Kurt dozens of times if he feels any differently towards him, any urges he can’t ignore, or maybe a deeper sense of undeniable carnal desire towards him.

Kurt said _yes_.

He wished he’d been smarter than to fall in love with a man who can’t tell an injured kitten from a vampire bat, particularly one with silver fangs and glowing red eyes. 

“For the thousandth time,” Blaine wails in frustration, “I was not flirting with him! I was not, I was not, I was not! Jesus Christ, Kurt! Why do you have to be so flippin’ jealous all the time--- _oops_!”

Blaine’s eyes pop when he hears Kurt gasp.

If he still had a heartbeat, it would have stopped.

Bare feet pad across the floor towards the door and Blaine swallows hard.

“Uh … Kurt?” Blaine starts, trying to formulate the right apology without knowing where on earth to start. He’s not wrong. He didn’t consciously do anything that would have caused that guy to buy him a drink, hover too close, try to cut in every time he and Kurt took to the dance floor. He did nothing to lead him on.

But he didn’t discourage him, either.

Unfortunately, that seems to be a running theme with him - not knowing how to tell guys to back off. But Blaine feels that if he starts with that, things will tangent off in the direction of other argument-worthy subjects. Like pretty much every bad thing that’s happened between them since high school.

But if he can get Kurt to open the door and talk to him calmly, rationally, he might have a chance at winning his boyfriend back.

Of course, if he uses the words ‘calm’ or ‘rational’, Kurt might set him on fire.

Would it be horrible to admit he’s hoping that if they can’t resolve this, that they have another big blow out, which would then lead to angry sex? Because Kurt can be hot as fuck when he gets angry.

Either way, Blaine was looking forward to sex tonight. He’s hoping it’s still on the table somewhere, even if it’s stuck to the bottom like week-old Juicy Fruit.

The door opens a crack and Kurt’s body fills the space. Kurt looks at the face Blaine pulls: pouty lip, raised brows, and wide, puppy-dog eyes - the mask of an apologetic six-year-old with a severe case of the “ulterior motives”. Kurt scoffs. Then, without a word, he turns away from the door and bends at the waist.

“No,” Blaine says in a panic when he realizes what’s coming. “No … Kurt? Come on … we’ll talk about it … I promise … it’ll never happen again … I …”

But an unfazed Kurt lifts a plastic bucket and turns it over, spilling hundreds of glass marbles all over the floor. Blaine watches the multitude of colored spheres cascade from the doorway and roll around his feet. Kurt tosses the bucket out and slams the door shut again.

Blaine groans as he stares at the marbles that he’s going to have to collect up and count. A second strange side-effect of vampirism – arithmomania. A compulsive need to count things in his environment. He found out about it not long after his transformation when Kurt accidentally dropped a packet of poppy seeds on the carpet. Hence the switch to hardwood floors.

It gave Blaine a whole new outlook on one of his favorite Sesame Street characters, except The Count always seemed so happy about having something to count. To Blaine, it’s maddening.

“Mature, Kurt. Real mature,” Blaine mutters, kicking at the marbles, watching them skid and bounce away. 

“What!?” Kurt snaps, opening the door, his cheeks burning red. Blaine’s eyes fall on the silver chain and cross dangling from Kurt’s neck, and immediately he drops to his knees, grabbing up the plastic bucket and a handful of marbles.

“I … uh … nothing. Nothing, I was just … I was counting … out loud.” Blaine clears his throat and starts dropping marbles into the plastic bucket. “One (plunk), two (plunk), three (plunk), four (plunk) …”

The door whips shut, rattling the frame. Blaine looks up, certain the force behind it broke the thing in two, and sees the light underneath go out.

Kurt is not going to wait up for him to finish.

Blaine sighs, sitting back on his heels and closing his fingers around the marbles, tempted to crush them into sand. Except then Kurt will have him counting the grains and there will be ten times as many.

Blaine goes back to dropping the marbles into the bucket.

“It’s going to be one of those nights.”


End file.
